


And all to all the world besides

by randomdestielfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 09, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Dean/Cas Secret Santa 2017, Depressed Castiel, Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel, Intercrural Sex, Jealous Castiel, M/M, OMG we almost died but didn't!Sex, Pining Castiel, Post-Episode: s08e23 Sacrifice, Wall Sex, some dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 12:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13524681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomdestielfangirl/pseuds/randomdestielfangirl
Summary: Cas is not taking humanity very well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesacredgrove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesacredgrove/gifts).



> This was a pinch hit for a pinch hit, if that makes any sense. 
> 
> To my giftee: I'm sorry I haven't actually managed to fulfill your request in its entirety, but your prompt was so good I could not bring myself to write a short one-shot. Please be reassured that I'll post chapter 2 ASAP. 
> 
> This work is un-beta'd so please let me know about the inevitable errors that I failed to catch.

It had been three hundred and eighty seven days since they had locked up the doors of heaven and hell permanently, nine thousand two hundred and eighty eight hours since Crowley had bled out on the bunker floor, five hundred fifty-seven thousand two hundred eighty minutes since his fall. His missing grace is a phantom limb, prodding at him, the memory of its presence playing out from behind closed eyelids when he attempts sleep.  

Humans require so _much_ sleep.

It becomes a marvel to him, how much Sam and Dean are capable of with their fragile, needy, human bodies, how they manage to hunt with their bodies demanding attention every once in a while - for food, drink, sleep, sex, toilets.

“I hate having to urinate,” he fumes one day to Sam in the library, “it breaks up my concentration. Everything does.”

Sam chews his lip, commenting mildly. “It’s nice to get up and stretch once in a while. Your body needs it.”

 _‘No it doesn’t_ _’_ he wants to say, the words gushing, tripping on his tongue. ‘ _It didn’t need to before. It never existed before, this small, weak, little bag of flesh and bone and blood. When I was limitless, my form stretching over time and space like a beautiful, wonderful, powerful thing. When time meant nothing to me, simply a tool used to measure change. When change itself was not permanent, merely a set of events predestined according to my Father’s plan. When I still believed my Father existed, and you and your brother were nothing more than mere thoughts, names, shadowy figures who would one day bring paradise upon this planet._ ’

He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t believe anymore.

+

Dean keeps talking to him, keeps coming into his room, keeps nagging at him to _get up and stop sulking Cas_ or _help me do the laundry will you_ or _it’s time for dinner I made your favourite burgers_. Dean behaves like an indulgent parent with a fractious child, a fact made more obvious when he refuses to show anything more than fond tolerance at Castiel’s non cooperation. This only serves to infuriate Castiel more, because Castiel does not think of Dean as a parent, he has no need for a replacement father figure.

Because he knows what Dean behaved like _before_.

It had confused him, Dean’s expression whenever he appeared. At first, he assumed it was merely hostile and mistrustful, and had probed no farther. Yet it troubled him, the increase in Dean’s heartbeat, the way his eyes flickered down, the constant wetting of his lips.

“Are you thirsty?” he remembered asking Dean once, in the beginning, when they were alone in some motel. Sam was late getting dinner according to his brother, but Castiel knew that the younger man was in the company of Ruby. He had chosen not to enlighten Dean.

“What?” Dean had asked, confused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips once more.  

“You keep moistening your lower lip,” Castiel had said, stepping closer to peer at Dean’s mouth. “Yet they are not chapped. Do you require some water?”

“N- no.” Dean had all but whispered, his breathing stuttering. It was then that Castiel realised. He looked up at Dean’s dilated pupils, at the flush adorning his cheeks. Unconsciously, Castiel had felt his vessel react, but before he could reign it in Sam had appeared, effectively cutting off their exchange. He had filed away Dean’s desire for him, or more accurately his vessel, in a corner of his mind.

He had thought of it often over the years. The more his grace diminished and his wings damaged, the more he identified with his vessel, the more it tugged at him. He had come close, very close to asking Dean about it, to forcing a confrontation about it, the confusing stray _feelings_ that made him wonder (and fear) if he shared Dean’s desire.

Now, after the fall, he knows. He understands.  

+

They still hunt. Or more accurately, Dean still insists on hunting. Sam’s body is too beaten down and broken from the ritual to fight yet. Sometimes, Castiel suspects that even if it did, Sam’s mind is no longer _in the game_ , as Dean would put it. It's just Dean going on hunts most of the time, Sam and Castiel remaining behind to research and read. Kevin emerges from time to time, a confused unhappy mess still angry about the death of his mother. Dean parents him as well, forcing the boy to eat and sleep, letting him take as long as it needs to grieve. Castiel feels for them all, but he’s too wrapped up in his own slump to exert himself, unable and unwilling to help anyone.

He had thought he was being noble, sacrificing his very self, cutting himself off forever from his family. He had not thought of surviving the trials. He had not really thought of the _after_.

He is a fool.

+

“Vampires.” Dean announces on Saturday afternoon. Castiel looks up from his well thumbed copy of _Hamptons Gardens_ at him. He hasn’t even changed out of his pajamas and is on his fifth coffee of the day.

Dean however, looks sparkling. Barring his rather hideous looking mustard coloured plaid shirt, the rest of him is beautiful. Castiel wonders anew where he gets his energy from, considering he’s the only one among the four people living in the bunker who is doing any actual work at all. Sam and Kevin could be excused, but all Castiel has been lately is a burden who won’t eat Dean’s food when it’s hot or clean up after himself.

“Come on Cas, chopping down some fuckers with a machete is just what you need.” Dean says, plucking the book out of Castiel’s hands.

“I really don’t think so, Dean,” Castiel makes a futile grab for his book, “besides.. I don’t have my powers.”

“And?”

“I can help you research if you want but -”

“It’s just a bunch of vamps, come on Cas. you want to be a hunter don’t you?” Dean asks him, shuffling out of reach. “You can’t be a hunter if you just sit on the couch all day.”

“I do not.”

“Of course you do, you’re always on this thing.”

“No, I mean,” Castiel looks away, “I don’t want to be a hunter. I don’t think I can.”

There’s a silence, a shameful silence where he waits for Dean’s judgement. It was easy to want to hunt, to want to be by Dean and Sam’s side when he was an angel. But now, in this clumsy, unwieldy self, he’d only slow them down.  

“Okay,” Dean says, his voice unexpectedly soft, “okay, but could you just tag along? Just to watch my back maybe? I need you, man.”    

Castiel wants to refuse, but the words _I need you_ get to him, the old siren song that always calls to him, especially when its Dean.

“Alright.”

+

The nest is in Montana, somewhere between the towns of Battlesides and Surhampton. Over ten drained bodies have been found in both these places in the past fortnight.

“Must be a small group of vamps,” Dean says, “the larger nests are always camped near big cities, or places with high traffic. Far easier to prey on drifters than snack on the locals.”

“I see,” Castiel says, “aren’t they being a bit foolhardy now?”

“They’re not going to stay very long, maybe they found a better hunting ground. Just one last party before lights out for them. Once we lose the trail, we’ll lose them forever.”

Castiel frowns. “Best hurry up then.”

+

It’s three in the morning when they reach Surhampton, having stopped at a gas station diner on the way for some soggy burgers and good coffee. Dean falls asleep despite the coffee when they reach the motel, but Cas finds himself awake, restlessly tossing and turning on the bed, a sliver of moonlight dancing on the yellowing sheets. After about an hour of trying to sleep, he gives up and quietly pads over to the laptop. Might as well do some research for the case.

The seven dead from Surhampton have little in common. A pair of teenage sisters on their way home from a classmate’s party, a middle school teacher, a thirty three year old prostitute, three coworkers out for drinks after their shift. Castiel makes a note of the routes these people were taking, the places they were all last seen at. He has a look at the Police Scanner, but nothing new has popped up. He re-irons his and Dean’s suits for the morrow, and it’s still only five in the morning, too early to go out and fetch Dean coffee.

Eventually he falls asleep out of sheer anxiety in his chair, waking up with a start when Dean taps him on the shoulder.

“You okay?” Dean asks him, already showered and dressed.

Castiel’s head is aching, his neck sore from the scrunched up position it was forced to be in. There’s drool on his collar.

“I’m fine.”

+

They stop by the Surhampton Police Department for vic profiles, then head out to interview the grieving families. Dean doesn’t let him talk much, smoothly taking over and relegating Castiel to a notes-taking role. Other than finding out that the middle school teacher was having an affair which was outed only by her demise, they don’t find out much else - no new friends, no changes in routine.

“Maybe we should go through traffic feeds,” Castiel suggests at lunch, after a trip to the mortuary to check on the corpses. The diner they are in is nearly empty, only a beaten up truck and a tiny Mitsubishi in the parking lot alongside the Impala.

Dean grunts, his eyes fixed on the medical reports. He looks up only when their waitress approaches.

“Hi there, what can I get you?” she’s young, beautiful and blonde, with a sunny smile and dimples.

“Meat loaf for me sweetheart,” Dean grins widely at her, “and my friend over here will have your brisket burger and onion rings.”

‘ _I’m right here,_ ’ Castiel wants to say, ‘ _I can order for myself if you would just let me._ ’ He ignores the fact that Dean picked out exactly what he wanted.   

“Right away,” Emma, according to her name tag, says. She doesn’t seem to be in any rush to leave however, “so what’s someone like you doing in Surhampton?” her eyes rake over Dean’s broad shoulders in his perfectly cut suit, his casually tousled light hair, the cut of his jaw and the gleam of his leaf green eyes.

Dean’s grin becomes, if possible, even wider. “Guess.” he says, winking at her.

Castiel looks away, at his food, feeling the dull ache in him grow. He suddenly wants to be back in the bunker, sitting beside Sam and organising one of the library shelves. Sam is wonderful, Sam is safe, Sam is kind. Sam never makes him feel like this, uncomfortable and ashamed and jealous and petty, Sam never makes him feel like a bad human.

“Oh I don’t know,” Emma says, chewing her lower lip in a schoolgirlish manner, “secret agent?”

“Bingo!” Dean says, “Knew you were smart, sweetheart.”

“Seriously?” she asks him, her cheeks reddening further, “Are you here about the murders?”

“You know we are,”Dean says smoothly, “maybe you can help me and my partner -” he gestures at Cas, who nods at her jerkily, “- once you get a couple of spare minutes? I’m sure you know everyone in town.” He smiles cajolingly at her.  

“Oh, I’d love- I mean - if you think I can help-”

Dean reaches over to tap lightly at Emma’s hand. “I think you can.”

Emma giggles and agrees, sashaying away toward another table.

There’s a silence after she leaves. Castiel chances a glimpse at Dean, but the other man’s smile has already fallen, his concentration already absorbed by the reports.

Castiel pulls out his phone. There are no messages.

Emma comes with their food, her attention momentarily diverted when a family comes in, so she merely smiles and assures Dean she’ll be back.

“This is good meatloaf.” Dean says approvingly, smacking his lips. Castiel says nothing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Castiel replies immediately, “just wondering about the case.”

“We’ll find them Cas, don’t worry.” Dean says, his eyes kind. Castiel hates the look on his face, hates the warm feeling in his chest that glows at Dean’s words.

Was it really so long ago when he was actually useful?

He turns his attention to the food, eating quickly, not really tasting whatever is on his plate. Dean makes small talk occasionally, but Castiel doesn’t respond beyond a few nods and hmms.

“I’m on break now,” Emma says when she appears twenty minutes later, two slices of apple pie in her hands, “and I thought you might like our pie.”

Dean lights up like a child at the sight of it. “You sure know how to win a guy over, Emma.”

The girl smiles back at him, blushing prettily. She draws up a free chair from another table.

“I think I’ll go back to the Police Department.” Castiel announces, standing up abruptly.

Dean looks up from his plate, startled. “I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Castiel says, then attempts to soften his answer at the sight of Dean’s bewilderment. “I want to take a look at the traffic feeds. It’ll be faster if we split up.”

Dean chews his lip worriedly, relenting after a moment. “Okay, but be careful.”

“I will,” Castiel says, nodding at Emma, who looks delighted.

“And call me if something comes up!” Dean says to his retreating back.

Castiel leaves.

+

As he sits watching the feeds from the past fortnight, a legal pad on his lap, Castiel wonders what he thought he could achieve. The Police have already gone through every inch of this footage and found nothing.

He sighs. It’s still better than being relegated to the side while Dean flirts his way through.

He’s idly watching the main street footage from a week ago when he spots the truck. Frowning, he tries to zoom in. It’s pretty nondescript, greyish looking in colour. He watches it park in front of a row of apartments, right next to the middle school teacher’s car. According to the woman’s husband, she was supposed to have been at work, but they only later found out that she was visiting her lover at home. The lover was the obvious suspect, considering they only had his word that the woman left safe and sound after their tryst. But the other deaths didn’t add up.

Someone in a hoodie gets out of the truck, then reappears after fifteen minutes, driving off quickly.

Quickly, he goes back to the pair of teenage sisters stopping at the supermarket. Sure enough, the battered truck comes into view five minutes later. A different person comes out, steps into the store and steps back out after fifteen minutes, empty handed. He confirms this with the other victims, the truck is the same, the drivers different, all wearing hoodies. He understands why the Police missed it - the vampires don’t have any visible weapons on them, and most humans don’t know how fast a vampire can drain a body.

He zooms in, trying to catch a proper look at the plates, then stops.

He’s definitely seen this truck somewhere before.

Then it comes to him in a flash, an innocuous looking grey truck parked right next to the Impala at the diner.

 _Dean._   


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd, so all errors are mine (sorry!)
> 
> Huge thanks to the people over at #ProfoundBond on Discord for cheering me on.

Dean is a certified idiot.

After all the years of warnings drilled into his head by his dad, after all the experience he’s had hunting, he goes and falls into the most obvious trap ever - ending up knocked out and tied to a rickety wooden chair, kidnapped by a pretty blonde thing half his size. He tries to move, fighting the bonds as best as he can. The room smells awful, the scent of decay everywhere, making him want to throw up his recently ingested meatloaf. That’s a pity, considering it was pretty good meatloaf.

Dean wonders what they’re going to do with him now, Emma the surprise Vamp had not had a chance to make her  _mwahaha_  villain speech yet. He tries to peer through his blindfold as he slips off his shoes, wondering how long it’s been. Cas must have noticed his absence by now, probably contacted Sam already. The thought of Cas makes his stomach jolt uncomfortably. Cas had not wanted to come, but Dean had talked him into it anyway, hoping that a good old fashioned hunt would bring some spirit back into those eyes.

“Wakey wakey!” his blindfold is abruptly ripped off by a gross looking guy dressed in black, his rotten teeth bared into a hideous grin. He leans right up to Dean’s face, eyebrows waggling. Dean suddenly misses the blindfold.

“Hey handsome,” he says with a pained grin, his eyes smarting at the sudden light, “who took off your leash?”

The Vamp blanches, punching Dean in the face, splitting the skin below his right eye. “Shut the fuck up, you bastard.” He rears back and hits Dean again before grabbing at his hair and coming up close. “I’ve heard lots about the famous Winchesters from the grape vine,” he snarls, “but you’re nothing but a weakass pretty boy.”

Dean spits at him, watching the shock on the pasty face as he kicks at the Vampire’s shin hard enough to make him stagger.

“You fucker!” The Vampire screams as he rushes at Dean, his fangs out. “I’ll drain every last drop in you.”

“No you won’t,” Dean says, “if you were going to, you would have done it already, you bit-part badguy. Mommy hasn’t given you permission to touch the goods has she?”

“Bet you’ll be singing a different tune when Emma brings your boyfriend in,” the Vamp sneers, and Dean feels his heart stop. Cas wouldn’t. He’s too smart to go rushing into battle without information, too experienced to panic and just  _walk_  into a trap.

But he will if it is to save Dean’s sorry hide.

A slap jolts him into reality. The Vamp is leering now. “He’s on his way to meet Emma right now, and all it took was one distressed phone call from her about you.”

“Fuck you.” Dean says tonelessly, guilt bubbling acidic in his gut. As a human, Cas was surprisingly gullible and vulnerable - he believed everyone, giving other people the benefit of doubt rather than have a confrontation and reveal his less than adequate knowledge about humanity. It was the lack of confidence in himself that had hurt Dean the most, the way he shrank from speaking to sales assistants or waiting staff on the rare occasions he consented to go out with Dean and Sam. He wriggles at his ropes faster, scanning the room for potential weapons. He doesn’t come up with much - the nest is one of the cleaner ones he’s encountered.  

The creak of a door interrupts the heavy silence, and Dean tries his best to paste a cocky smile on his face when two new Vampires appear, dragging in a ruffled looking Castiel, Emma at their heels. Dean heaves a mental sigh of relief when he notices that Cas is not seriously injured, the other man’s blue eyes narrowing with concern when he spots Dean’s battered face.

“Awww Andy you hurt his pretty face,” Emma sing songs, bending down and stroking Dean’s face with a pointed fingernail. Dean forces himself to stay still when she licks at the blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.  

“Let him go,” Cas says, his voice flat and emotionless. His hands are bound and bruised, and Dean can guess how much he must have tried to fight his captors.  

Emma doesn’t. Dean lets out an involuntary gasp when she bites down on his neck instead. The pain is excruciating, and though he knows it’s too shallow to actually kill him, he can’t help screaming. Somewhere in the background Dean can hear Cas thrash and rage against his captors, his voice hoarse with anguish.

_I can’t die like this._

Dean forces his eyes open, twisting his hands and feet in desperation as he attempts to get free. The rope grates at his skin, scraping at his wrists. He can barely feel the sting as it begins to loosen. There’s the sickening sound of blows nearby, Cas grunting in pain as those fucking bastards laugh. There’s a sudden scream of agony and the sound of flesh tearing, and Dean is going to fucking murder them all with extreme prejudice when he’s done.

“Having fun yet?” Emma asks him, breaking the suction at his neck with a small  _pop_. Her eyes are glazed, the bloodlust in them brimming over.  

“Not yet,” Dean says, feeling the rope at his ankles give. He kicks upwards, feeling a vicious satisfaction when his knees connect with Emma’s chest. Before she can react he propels the chair backwards, wincing as it breaks. Emma screams with rage as she and Andy leap at him, but Dean rolls aside, shrugging off the ropes at his wrists and grabbing at the broken chair leg. He hacks quickly at the ropes binding his chest, noticing that Cas is somehow free too, fighting off a burly Vamp who has him in a deadlock. His Angel blade lies a few feet away.

Dean rushes at them, grabbing at the blade and sinking it into the Vamp’s neck. With the Angels and Heaven sealed away, the blade doesn’t have Castiel’s Grace running through it anymore, but it is still an exceptionally well made weapon. The Vamp gasps and falls limp as Dean stabs him, confusing Dean briefly before he realizes that Cas probably dipped it in Dead man’s blood.

“Dean, move!” Cas shouts as he shoves the Vamp off himself. Dean dives out of the way on instinct, staggering as Andy rushes at him. Somewhere close by Emma screams horribly, but he can’t afford to look away from Andy. The Vampire is nearly crazed with the smell and sight of Dean’s blood, his movements haphazard. He dives at Dean and misses, letting loose a feral scream as Dean slices his chest open with the Angel blade. A thin layer of Dead man’s blood won’t conk them out for too long, so Dean stabs at his neck and drags the blade to roughly decapitate Andy, grunting with the effort.

Panting, he looks up see Cas stabbing at Emma’s neck repeatedly with Dean’s discarded chair leg (A chair leg!), his expression enraged. Dean limps over to him, knees throbbing with pain.

“That’s it, Cas, stop it, she’s dead, it’s okay,” he throws his arms around Cas’s trembling form, trying to stop the other man’s frantic movements.

“She  _hurt_  you,” Cas mutters wildly, dropping the chair leg and wheeling around to face Dean, “You trusted her, and she hurt you.”

“Kind of what Vamps do, buddy,” Dean soothes, trying to drag Cas to his chest, “I’m fine, she didn’t bite hard enough I swear, Cas please, listen -”

“- I thought you were going to die!” Cas shouts, his blue eyes large and wet as they meet Dean’s defiantly. Dean’s breath hitches as Cas raises his bruised palm to cup his face, the action familiar and soothing as a lullaby, harking back to the countless times Cas had knit Dean’s flesh back together like it was nothing. “I can’t do anything -” Cas whispers, “- your bones could break, your blood could flow, your heart could stop at anytime and I can’t - I’m nothing now. Dean -”

“ - Don’t.” Dean interrupts harshly. He grabs at Cas’s face, pulling him close, and now is the time for him to say something, something amazing and wise and thoughtful so Cas would never - that Cas could  _ever_  think that he was anything less than absolutely everything -

Dean kisses him.

And for the longest moment, Cas does nothing. He doesn’t kiss back, he doesn’t push Dean away, it’s like he’s just frozen in space. Face burning, Dean is about to pull away when Cas lets out an anguished moan, kissing back with a ferocity that promises no stopping.

And Dean doesn’t want it to stop.  

“Dean,” Cas moans, “Dean, are you sure - ”

“ - need you.” Dean says, pulling back just as fraction to look Cas in the eye. The other man is flushed and panting, his hair maddeningly disheveled, and Dean is suddenly as hard as nails. He wants to devour Cas, wants to climb inside his skin, wants to keep the smell and sound of Cas’s life against his heart and never let it go.

Cas’s eyes darken. “I’m here.”

And it’s that statement, so bluntly and easily made by the man he’s wanted for years and years, the man he’s betrayed and been betrayed by, the man he’s loved and longed and waited for, the man who’s left him more times than he can count that breaks Dean. Cas deserves more than this. He deserves his first time with Dean on a proper bed, surrounded by candles and flower and moonlight sliding through an open window, not a hasty coupling on the floor of a dirty shack, surrounded by decapitated corpses.

Cas grabs at Dean as he pulls away. “Don’t you dare.”

“But Cas, we can’t - not like this -”

“I’ve waited long enough.” Cas growls, pulling Dean into a bruising kiss. Dean’s eyes flutter shut as his head spins, and he lets out a gasp when the long line of Cas’s erection presses against his own.

Fuck it, he doesn’t care anymore.

Cas’s shirt buttons slip and slide against Dean’s fingers, peskily refusing to come undone, snapping when Dean tugs at them irritably. His chest is broad and warm, dark hair curling underneath Dean’s eager fingers. Cas’s hands are none too gentle, slipping underneath his layers, scratching against his back.

“Off.” Dean says, fumbling with Cas’s belt buckle, the other man’s breathing harsh as Dean pushes him onto the floor. They continue to grab frantically at each other as Dean shrugs his own jacket and shirt off, Cas’s fingers already at work pulling off his Henley.  

“Dean - Ohhh -  _Dean_ ” Cas fucking mewls as Dean grinds against him, and Dean can feel his mind melting. Cas paws at him, the steady moan of Dean’s name a prayer on his lips. His stubble scratches against Dean’s cheek, and  _fucking hell_  they’re both still wearing too many clothes. Cas whines when he pulls away forcefully, ripping off his own trousers inelegantly before starting on Cas’s.

“The things I want to do to you, Cas,” Dean grunts as he grinds against Cas, his dick spurting precome, ruining his boxers, “I’ve been wanting - and waiting - for five fucking years -”

“Tell me what you want,” Cas gasps, bucking wildly against him, “teach me, Dean. Make me yours.” His eyes are almost black, the pupils blown wide. The bruises on his face are dark against the tanned skin, but he doesn’t flinch when Dean hauls him to his feet, steering him roughly toward a cabinet near the door.

“Don’t you dare move,” Dean says, placing Cas’s hands on the cabinet and bending him over, “I’ll take care of you.” Cas shudders an assent as Dean licks at his earlobe, his breath coming in gasps.

“I want to jerk you off, Cas,” Dean says, draping himself over Cas, cupping at his erection, “want to wake you up every morning by sucking your cock down.” he slides their boxers off, giving Cas’s cock a gentle squeeze. Cas shudders in his arms, moaning at this, while Dean continues to thrust slowly against him, his fingers teasing, feather-light on Cas’s dick. “I want to work you open with my tongue,” Dean says, moving his other hand between them to finger at Cas’s hole.  

Cas throws his head back at this, desperately thrashing against Dean’s loose grip on his cock, aching for release.

“I’d do it slowly,” Dean continues mercilessly, keeping his hand on Cas’s cock light, teasing at Cas’’s hole, “I’ll have you begging for me.”

“Yes, Dean, yes, please!” Cas whimpers, voice high and needy, his hands gripping at the cabinet, knuckles white with exertion. His eyes are screwed shut, sweat dripping down the side of his face. Dean licks at it gently, savoring the salty sweet taste of Cas’s skin.

“You’d look so good on my cock baby,” Dean says, losing a little bit of control as he starts thrusting in earnest against Cas, his cock slipping and sliding between Cas’s thighs. He grabs at Cas’s dick with both hands, biting and sucking at Cas’s shoulder, “so warm and tight and fucking amazing - the noises you’d make for me -” Cas lets out an almost scream at this. “That’s right, Cas - keep doing that -”

“Dean, please -” Cas sobs as he thrusts into Dean’s fist, his firm ass grinding back against Dean’s aching cock.          

“Please what, baby?”

“Please - Please don’t stop - never stop -”

“Never.” Dean stutters, quickening his pace as his orgasm draws nearer, the feeling of Cas’s thighs clenching tight around him unbelievable. Cas is keening, his voice an incoherent wail as he comes abruptly, spilling into Dean’s fist and  _fucking hell_  it’s the most amazing sight Dean’s ever seen.

“Cas - I can’t -” Dean mutters, sliding his come streaked fingers all over Cas’s trim waist, rutting frantically against Cas.

“Come for me, Dean - Dean -” is all Cas manages to say before Dean’s cock erupts, shooting long ropes of come across Cas’s trembling thighs. His knees buckle, and he all but collapses against Cas’s firm back before the other man turns around in his arms and gathers Dean close. They breathe heavily together, and Dean can’t resist pressing a few soft kisses to Cas’s dry lips.

“You were amazing today,” Dean whispers, the aches and pains slowly making their presence known again as his adrenaline fades, “decapitated three Vamps on your first hunt, that’s a fantastic start.”

Cas _hmmms,_  gently stroking at Dean’s neck, where blood is still sluggishly dripping down. “We need to get your injuries looked at.”

“I’ve had worse,” Dean says dismissively, not wanting to move from Cas’s comfortable embrace. 

“Dean.” Cas scolds, but doesn’t move either. They sway together, Dean burying his face in Cas’s neck, his fingers threading through the other man’s soft hair.   

“I thought,” Cas says after a while, his voice still shaky, “I thought you - since I’m human -”

“- Always you big idiot,” Dean interrupts, knocking their foreheads together. “I’ve always wanted you, and I always will.”

Cas smiles then, a sunny, beautiful thing that makes Dean’s heart race all over again, and for a totally different reason. “Let’s go home then.”

Dean takes his hand.      


End file.
